Page 113 of Revenge Reads Better

“I’m sorry,” I mumble behind her.

“For what? It’s not like you did this shit.” She looks at the word and lets out a humorless laugh. “Could’ve been worse. Sydney must’ve been feeling uninspired today.”

“Can I help?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just go grab your stuff, or you’ll be late to Mr. Collins’s class.”

“Are you sure?” I hesitate.

“Yes. Now go. I got this,” she says, putting even more elbow grease into the task.

I reluctantly make my way to my locker, leave my backpack inside, and grab my textbook. The bell hasn’t rung yet, but I head to Mr. Collins’s class anyway, hoping to apologize for my awkward behavior last Friday night.

He must think I’m a total whack job after I just stood there like a deer caught in headlights, unable to string two words together.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate the praise. I do.

I like Mr. Collins. He’s a good teacher. And if he’s half as invested in helping me become a better writer as he seems to be, then I should be grateful to have him in my corner. Not embarrassed every time he says something nice about my writing.

As expected, Mr. Collins is already at his desk when I knock on the open door.

“I know it’s early, but can I come in?”

“Max!” he greets, getting up from his seat. “Just the student I wanted to talk to.”

Great. He’s probably going to tell me how rude I came across in front of his family.

“Oh?” I say nervously, hugging my books to my chest as I walk over to him.

“Yes. So, I got an email over the weekend from a friend who works at a newspaper up in Portland.”

“Okay,” I retort, unclear on what that has to do with me.

“He told me his newspaper is running a contest for students under eighteen. They’re looking for Halloween-themed short stories to publish in their weekend edition for spooky season. And I thought, well, this is the perfect opportunity for Max to get her feet wet and have one of her stories published.”

It takes a full minute for the information to sink in.

“You mean if I win… I’ll be published?”

“That’s the plan,” Mr. Collins says with a wide grin. “So, what do you say? Are you up for it? I’m more than happy to read your story and give you some constructive feedback before you hand it in. Though the timeline is tight. All entries have to be submitted by the end of the week. And you still have that assignment from last week that is due on Wednesday. Do you think you can juggle it all with your other commitments?”

My smile slides off my face, but not for the reasons he just stated.

“A week? I…” My stomach twists. “I’m not sure I can come up with a new story in a week, then polish and edit it. I don’t think—”

Before I can make any more excuses, Mr. Collins places a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s okay, Max. If you’re not ready for this yet, I understand. There’s always next year. It was just an idea. I don’t want you getting stressed over it.”

I nod, even as disappointment creeps in at the thought of losing this opportunity.

“Although,” Mr. Collins starts, pulling his hand away, “I’m sure you have more than a few stories already in your repertoire.”

Wait. He’s right! I have a whole box full of them!

“I do.” My smile returns. “I have loads of stories already written, and I think I know exactly which one I’d choose. It’s still a first draft, but I’m positive I could clean it up by Friday.”

“There you have it, then. See? Nothing to worry about.”